


The Dichotomy of Man

by BelladonnaWyck, raiast



Series: BellaRai Writes KinkTober 2020 [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Plugs, Glory Holes, M/M, Murder Husbands, Murder talk is dirty talk, Orgasm Denial, Post Series, Post-Fall, TW for the guy they kill being a pedophile rapist and abuser, basically not a good guy, face fucking, hypothetical voyeurism, sex as murder foreplay, sex outside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaWyck/pseuds/BelladonnaWyck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiast/pseuds/raiast
Summary: Will has only one stipulation after they fall:he gets to select their prey.Hannibal has hunted alone for nearly his entire life, has never felt lonely until the shape of Will Graham is pressed into his bones.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: BellaRai Writes KinkTober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958245
Comments: 14
Kudos: 95





	The Dichotomy of Man

**Author's Note:**

> Week Three of Kinktober brings us Glory Holes! Enjoy some good old fashioned face fucking and murder talk foreplay!

Will has only _one_ stipulation after they fall: _he gets to select their prey._ Hannibal has hunted alone for nearly his entire life, has never felt lonely until the shape of Will Graham is pressed into his bones. He’d felt hollowed out when he’d been imprisoned, _three years_ of separation leaving him as a shade of his former self. He never wants to feel that again, would kill them first before he’d allow it, so he agrees easily. 

He doesn’t regret his decision to accept Will’s terms; he still revels in every small glimmer Will exposes of himself, enjoys watching his evolution since their shared Becoming on that bloody, moon-soaked night, but he _does_ sometimes bristle at the loss of control. 

A solitary hunter does not become a pack creature overnight, but Will is always there to set Hannibal back on the correct path in an ever-changing number of ways. Will prefers to use his hands to guide Hannibal, but days like this - when they are both wrung out and exhausted from weeks of hunting and stalking prey - on these days he refuses to touch Hannibal until the job is done, leaving Hannibal hungry for his touch. 

Louisiana is _sticky,_ the heat oppressive. It drives the air from Hannibal’s lungs, even when his throat _isn’t_ being viciously used by his occasionally spiteful lover. His lips are stretched wide around Will’s cock, pressed flat to the plastic dividing wall of this truckstop bathroom, a hole very obviously cut into the bathroom stall for only one purpose. 

Their prey is a frequent visitor to this particular _glory hole_ as Will had so eloquently referred to it, and they are expecting him any moment now. Until he joins them, Will has instructed Hannibal he isn’t allowed to come. Hannibal has impeccable patience, but Will hasn’t touched him in weeks, not since they’d first started hunting for _Jerry Mann,_ a known rapist and pedophile. 

Will’s sense of justice is a fickle thing, capricious and dangerous, a truly lovely sight to behold. He’s equally likely to select a homophobic bar patron, a rapist, an abuser, or any number of offenses he deems as punishable. For Jerry, the justice system had failed the women and children he’d abused, but Will hadn’t. It isn’t Hannibal’s style, but he can appreciate the ability to elevate the ugliness in the world into something far more beautiful in death. 

Will’s retribution often feels like an extension of that beauty, the creational foundation of life made into art. He’s been following Jerry like a ghost, carrying Hannibal through little paper-thin towns full of history and not much else as they stay on his trail. When he’d told Hannibal they were going to his old home, a place so wholly detached from the idea of the Will Graham Hannibal sees now, he’d been skeptical. But Hannibal can see the impressions of it left behind, how it guided Will along his own path, much like Hannibal’s own origins had placed him upon a path not chosen by many. He supposes he can appreciate the outcome of The Gulf, though it doesn’t endear him to the filth around him or the muggy, thick air. 

“You still with me, sweetheart? Love feeling that nice, wet mouth around my cock. Wanna hear you choke on it.” Hannibal makes a broken sound around the cock nestled in his throat, and Will grunts at the vibrations. He allows himself to choke around the intrusion, though his gag reflex is relatively dormant unless he’s putting on a show at Will’s behest. 

“That’s it, slut. Take my cock.” Will doesn’t even sound like himself, or rather, he sounds like some distant, foreign version of himself Hannibal has never truly known. A shadow version, the predator that creeps in the darkest parts of Will’s mind, stalks through the inky-black of his pupils and gets caught between his bone-white teeth. Hannibal likes all the wondrous parts of Will, craves them all in the most basic of ways, like lungs seek out air and a heart needs blood. 

He can’t respond, but Will doesn’t need him to, especially not when he’s like this. Will’s spread thin and on edge, too long without blood under his nails or on his tongue, and Hannibal can understand. It’s harder to maintain his meat of choice when they’re on the move like this, and Hannibal wants nothing more than to slaughter this pig and feast, glut both himself and Will on every usable morsel. 

“Shit, you’re so good at that.” Will praises him when Hannibal drags his tongue along the bottom of his shaft while still keeping him held tight in his throat, and Hannibal misses the feel of Will’s fingers turning to claws against his scalp as he yanks his hair and moves Hannibal how he wants him. 

Without Will to guide him, Hannibal must intuit on his own what it is that’s needed from him, what’s _expected._ Fortunately, Hannibal has spent the last year happily learning his beloved inside and out, growing acquainted with the man who yearns for connection just as much as the monster that craves bloodshed.

He whimpers softly even as he allows the tips of his sharp teeth to drag teasingly against Will’s shaft and is rewarded with a shudder and a sharp inhale from the other man.

“Wanna eat me up in more than one way, i bet? Wonder sometimes how much it must kill you. To have me in your mouth and not consume me as _thoroughly_ as you might like.” 

Will’s voice grows deeper, raspier, his Southern accent slipping in effortlessly as lust seizes him and he loses himself to the pleasure of Hannibal’s mouth. He chokes on a whimper when Hannibal’s teeth catch a bit more insistently around him at that particular taunt, the sound quickly devolving into a moan as Hannibal rubs his tongue soothingly against the offended area, swallowing around where Will’s head still nestles at the back of his throat.

The plastic partition that separates them shudders as the sharp sound of Will’s palm slapping against it splits the wet sounds of Hannibal’s mouth. _“Fuck,_ yeah, baby. Feel so fucking good.” 

Hannibal redoubles his efforts, swallowing rapidly around Will’s cock several times before pulling back up his shaft to focus on laving the head with slick, wet swipes of his tongue. Will loves having his foreskin played with, and Hannibal regrets they don’t have the time or space to accommodate it now, contenting himself with slipping his tongue into Will’s slit instead. 

“Such a perfect little cockslut, aren’t you darlin’? Got such a sinful mouth, made to take cock, swallow down a man’s load. You’re insatiable, nothing but a sweet little whore whenever you’re on your knees for me, _my_ whore.” Will pauses, gone breathless and when he speaks again Hannibal can’t help but _keen_ around his cock. “My _good boy, hm?”_ Will’s words are more of a nearly reckless snarl than any human sounds, and Hannibal’s stomach clenches with his own arousal, his desperation only increasing when they hear the hollow _thud_ of the bathroom door slamming against the wall, their prey finally entering the kill floor. 

“Make me come. Swallow me down, _now._ All of it, _”_ Will’s voice is a murmur shot through with a growl, the sound nearly totally animal, the pace of his cock slipping through the hole increasing as Will’s breathing picks up at the same time, his adrenaline coursing and preparing him to _lunge._

Hannibal opens his throat and presses closer, wincing as his mouth meets the edges of the hole carved in plastic laminate, trying desperately to focus on _Will_ and _his_ pleasure rather than the unfathomable myriad of germs and bacteria that might cling to such a surface. He suppresses his desire to be on his feet and facing their prey after so many days spent close to him but not close enough to feel his flesh between their teeth, keeps himself centered on seeking out Will’s release.

He’s rewarded with the desperate mewl Hannibal has become so familiar with - the obvious indication his lover is about to burst from his pleasure. Hannibal works doubletime at the sound, increasing the speed of his own bobbing head, swallowing and flexing his tongue and throat around the intrusion spearing into him relentlessly.

When Will comes, it’s with another soft groan. He thrusts all the way forward once more - as much as he can, at least - and gives a beautiful, breathy gasp when Hannibal swallows down all that’s offered to him without a moment’s hesitation. Hannibal gives a soft moan of his own as Will’s musky and bitter release slides down his throat, his hands both moving instinctively forward to reach out for his lover and also to his own groin to grind pressure against his - unsurprisingly - aching cock.

Will’s own hands have, seemingly unwittingly, formed claws. He digs into the barrier separating the two of them, drags his hands down with the ragged and choppy sound of one that has little control over their reactions. 

Hannibal hears his beloved clear his throat, preparing himself for the next step in their plan. “Stalls open if you like it nice and wet. Little slut’s got a pair of lips on ‘im.” Will exits the stall and passes over to the single sink basin, turning on the water. 

There’s a grunt of acknowledgement from their guest and then nothing for several long moments, Hannibal holding his breath, nothing but the sound of the water running and his pulse thumping in his veins. Finally, cautiously, Jerry slides into the recently vacated stall, and it’s only mere seconds later the tell-tale sound of a zipper sliding free splits through the air. 

Will would never ask Hannibal to debase himself for a pig, so even as Jerry shoves his pitiful cock through the hole Hannibal isn’t concerned. His mouth will never grace this pathetic creature’s flesh, and the next few minutes of Jerry’s miserable life will be some of the worst. Hannibal wastes no time, pulling the syringe from the leather carrier he keeps with him at all times, and slipping the cap off. 

“Come on, bitch. Show me what you’re worth,” Jerry taunts, and before he’s even finished speaking Hannibal is sliding the needle into his shaft, the reaction immediate. Jerry tries to pull away, but even over the water still running in the basin and their pig’s confused and panicked cry Hannibal can hear Will, could sense the displacement of air he leaves in his wake even if he were blind and deaf, and knows Jerry won’t find escape that way. 

There’s a collision, the commotion of Jerry slamming into Will’s solid form, surprisingly strong muscles hidden beneath his seemingly _safe_ exterior, and then Hannibal hears their prey’s weight being hauled into the side of the stall in the same moment the wall shudders violently. 

“Unfortunately that’s _my boy_ on the other side of that wall, Jerry. And I’m afraid I never learned to share with others.” 

The low, deadly tone of Will’s voice crawls over Hannibal’s flesh, settles into his core to fill him with an incessant heat all over again; he so loves listening to Will speak to their pigs. Hannibal himself had always maintained a clinical, detached air, never particularly feeling as though his prey deserved any emotion; he was never one to rely on sharp words in a menacing tone to incite terror, his mere presence and the horrors he bestowed upon those unfortunate enough to cross his path more than sufficient.

But _Will._ Will feels _everything._ He’s generally quite selective of their prey, and therefore almost always feels personally offended by the existence of those he deems worthy of his attention. So he gives them his rage, his bloodlust and cruelty. He forces them to accept every ounce of emotion that fills him too full, overflowing from the very depths of his soul until he feels a little emptier inside, a little more manageable. 

Slaughtering pigs is a pastime for Hannibal, but for Will it’s an _outlet,_ and it’s beautiful to watch every single time.

He pushes himself to his feet, his lingering arousal forgotten as a different form of excitement floods through him, adrenaline and anticipation buzzing sweetly in his veins. Will’s mouth is at his prey’s ear, teeth bared as he snarls his displeasure in words that drip like acid from his lips.

“Would you have bashed him after you used him, like you usually do? Taken what you wanted from him and then turned against him until he was bloody and beaten on the floor? Left him to die like you wish you could kill that part inside of you that enjoyed every second _before?_ Fucking hypocrite.”

Will yanks him back from the wall, poor Jerry Mann limp as a ragdoll and unable to struggle as he’s bodily hauled around and pushed into Hannibal’s waiting grasp. He catches the pig’s weight effortlessly, arms slipping beneath Jerry’s own and hooking around his shoulders to hold him still and open. Vulnerable.

“That’s not even the most despicable thing about you though, is it?”

Jerry struggles in Hannibal’s grasp sluggishly, fighting desperately against the sedative poisoning his body, a weak, pitiful sound slipping from his throat at the sight of the blade in Will’s grasp, produced so fluidly from his pocket it’s almost as though it’s materialized in his hand. Fear and anxiety flood Hannibal’s nose where he’s, unfortunately, got their prey pinned to his chest. The scent stings acrid in his nostrils, coats his palate with a bitter aftertaste without his permission, and Hannibal is glad they will be needing to move on hastily. 

No time for a butchering and a dinner, for this unworthy pig’s meat to be put to better use nourishing his love - not that it would be up to Hannibal’s standards regardless. No time even for a display, the point of this hunt only to soothe Will’s own anxiety, settle the restlessness and _hunger_ that’s been seething just beneath the surface for too long.

One more kill before they leave America, the last for a while now if they can help it; it would behoove them to stay under the radar for the time being, just until they know they’re safe.

“Beloved,” Hannibal warns, their time growing less and less far more rapidly than he knows either of them would prefer. 

Will hisses through his teeth, but not at Hannibal, plunging his knife into the unfortunate Mr. Mann. Hannibal watches over Jerry’s shoulder as he keeps him pinned in place, the glint of steel muted in the dull saturated yellow light of the bathroom. It sinks between his ribs, but not too perfectly, Will makes sure to jerk his wrist just enough to make it sloppy, to make the additional stabs appear erratic. They’d decided to stage this like an angry, vengeful spouse or perhaps even father of one of Jerry’s victims had caught up with him, taken out their justified vengeance. 

The paralytic Hannibal used was fast-acting and nearly undetectable, especially in a standard autopsy procedure, making it even less likely this kill would ever be traced to them. The knife will find its way to the depths of the Atlantic once they finally make it to Miami, a thirteen hour journey from where they are in Port Allen. 

“You’re disgusting. Worst of all, I think you _know_ just how depraved you are, how deserving of this. Even breathing the same air as you is toxic, nauseating. The world will be a lighter, happier, _safer_ place without you in it. Your victims will be able to breathe again once you’ve taken your last, a poetic sort of symmetry to it. Don’t you think?” Will is livid, though no less controlled because of it. These cases always seem to affect him the most strongly, the prey they hunt is always despicable by the standards of polite society, but Jerry is a particularly odious sort of vermin. 

Blood is bubbling at the corners of Jerry’s lips now, pouring steadily from the myriad of wounds layered across his stomach and chest. Even though Will is perfectly controlled his canvas is chaotic, dozens of stab wounds littering Jerry’s torso. Hannibal knows when Will finally pierces his heart, Jerry’s body seizing in his arms even through the paralytic and a rattling final breath passing through his lips like a secret. He slumps in Hannibal’s grasp, dead weight, and Hannibal lets him fall to the ground, limbs akimbo. 

Will is on him immediately, pressing Hannibal into the wall behind him and claiming his lips in a bruising, animalistic kiss full of a heated need. “You’re so good for me, darlin’. So fucking good.” Will praises him and Hannibal’s throat feels raw with emotion, the air trapped in his lungs burning as he exhales into Will’s greedy mouth. He _aches_ suddenly, his cock filling out again as Will writhes against him, ruts his groin against Hannibal’s thigh and sighs happily, purring contentedly. 

“Let’s go, sweetheart. I’ve got a surprise for you in the car.” Will’s grin is sharp and full of teeth, and Hannibal is helpless but to allow himself to be guided from the bathroom with nothing more than a cursory wash of their hands to remove the more obvious traces of blood. The detectives won’t find anything, they never do, and Hannibal’s mind is left to focus solely on the vicious boy before him. 

They make it to the car in fits and starts, Will stopping them to press teasing kisses to Hannibal’s throat and chin several times between the truck stop’s convenience store and their car where they parked along the dark, unmonitored side lot of the parking lot. 

Will opens the door for Hannibal, pushing him inside and leaning into the car to kiss him breathless again, crowding Hannibal’s space, his vision, every perception honed to Will. He finally parts long enough to make his way to the driver seat, sliding in smoothly like a jungle cat. 

“Check under your seat, got you a little something while you were out getting supplies earlier.” Will smirks, and Hannibal’s thigh muscles clench at the gaze he pins Hannibal with, the hairs at his nape tingling in the presence of such a strong fellow predator, such a suitable mate. 

Hannibal reaches beneath the seat and plucks a bag from the empty space, emptying the contents onto his lap. It’s immediately obvious what game Will has planned for him next, his beloved turning the car on and starting the long overnight drive to Miami with nothing more than a sideways glance to make sure Hannibal is paying attention. 

“Take it out, baby. Tell me what it is.” Will’s voice is taunting, teasing, and Hannibal obeys immediately. 

“It’s a plug. Heavy, made of stainless steel with a jewel at the end.” It isn’t made for comfortable long term use, but Hannibal is almost certain Will expects him to wear it for the remainder of the drive. 

“What else?” 

Hannibal raises a brow, unaware there _had_ been anything else. He opens the bag and peers inside, a tiny sachet of lubricant settled at the bottom of the bag. He nearly laughs at the implication. Will has a high capacity for cruelty, but he isn’t malicious in his cruelty towards Hannibal. It appears Hannibal has been gifted a small reprieve in the form of a fingerful of lubrication to ease the way. 

“Thank you, Will.” Hannibal opens the box for the plug, a cheap version one could pick up from any side of the road adult toy store, and takes it out from where it’s nestled against hard-pressed black styrofoam. 

“I want you to listen to everything I tell you, Hannibal. Your hands are gonna be my hands, just like your pleasure belongs to me. Yes?” It isn’t phrased as a question, Hannibal and Will both already know Hannibal will say yes, will _always_ say yes to Will. 

“Yes, beloved. What would you have me do?” 

“Pull down your pants, baby. Wanna see you play with yourself a bit first, get you all riled up and desperate for it. Want you gagging to have my plug inside you, wishing it was my cock instead.” Will’s words are filthy immediately, Hannibal’s pulse ticking up slightly. 

He sits the plug down between them in one of the cupholders, making quick and efficient work of his pants. He leaves them around his knees at first but Will _tsks_ at him and he pulls them down to his ankles, shifting to move his underwear down with them when he sees Will shoot him a sharp glance. 

“That’s perfect, sugar. You’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” Will is far more forthcoming with his praise tonight than usual, but Hannibal has no intention of looking that particular gift horse in the mouth. “Wanna see you play with your hole some, just with the tip of your finger. Don’t push it in, just touch it.” He adds on, and Hannibal spreads his knees obediently; wide enough that his right knee hits the door handle and his left knee is pressed to the side of the center console. 

“Such a perfect little whore, aren’t you? Bet you’re aching for me already, I’ve been awfully mean to you tonight, not letting you come earlier before we had to take care of our guest.” The nonchalant words leave Hannibal feeling slightly breathless, and his throat clicks where its gone dry. 

“I asked you a question, Hannibal. Don’t be rude.” 

“Yes, Will. I ache for you, you know I do.” Hannibal confirms, though they are both already perfectly aware of exactly how true that statement is. 

“Go ahead, touch it,” Will encourages, and Hannibal seeks out the edge of his rim with just the tip of his pointer finger, the skin smooth and rippled, fluttering against his touch. 

He rubs himself for what feels like hours but he knows only to be a few minutes, watching from the corner of his eye as Will’s fingers flex on the steering wheel. He always drives with one hand, and Hannibal is nearly mad with the desire to beg him to touch him with the hand sitting idly in his lap, wants Will’s hands on him nearly as much as he wants air in his lungs or blood in his teeth. 

“Want you to keep doing that while you pinch your nipples over your shirt. Get ‘em nice and hard for me, alright darlin’?” 

_“Yes,”_ Hannibal breathes, his free hand gliding up his abdomen and settling over one of his nipples, pinching it nearly viciously until it peaks. 

The car jolts as it strikes a dip in the freeway and Hannibal groans as his body is jostled, the tip of his finger sliding past his rim, his hole already clenching, trying to draw him in, even dry.

“Careful now, baby. We’ve got a long haul ahead of us. Don’t wanna get to the main event so soon, do you?”

He doesn’t tell Hannibal to remove his finger, so he doesn’t. “There are a great many things I want, Will. I wish we had time to stop, so you could lay me out properly, do with me whatever you desired.”

He watches Will’s face in the dim light of the car, light occasionally for a breath at a time as they speed beneath the intermittent lights on the freeway. His lips curl into a grin, and Hannibal knows the teasing look that would sparkle in his eyes if they weren’t trained on the road before them. “My daddy always had a saying about making wishes, but you’d probably find it pretty uncouth.” 

Hannibal has an idea of the phrase which Will is speaking, but before he can respond his love is speaking again. “But I don’t need to lay you out to get what I want. Your hands are mine, remember? Speaking of, how’s that cock of yours doin’? Nice and hard for me already?”

“Aching and leaking,” Hannibal responds with utter, unashamed honesty. Will’s considering hum is low, hungry; it makes Hannibal’s stomach clench pleasantly, his dick throbbing as it rests heavy and untouched against his belly.

“Show me,” Will demands softly.

Hannibal slides the hand that had been working at his chest down his front, making to grip his shaft and give a squeeze to relieve some of the pressure pooling there.

“I think you know what I meant, and I think we both know you don’t need your whole fist to do it,” Will reminds him before he can get a grip around himself. “Nice and light. You know how I like to tease you. Love those breathy little whines you give me.”

“I know, Will,” Hannibal agrees, voice already strained and breathless as though Will had been edging him properly, and for far longer than they’ve actually been at it. 

He trails a single digit through the slickness that beads at the tip of his cock, releasing his breath in a hiss as he tamps down on the urge to continue even this gentle exploration. He extends his finger toward Will, doesn’t bother to swallow down the moan pulled from his throat as his love dips his head to the side and wraps his lips around Hannibal’s offering. His tongue is hot and teasing as it swipes over the fluid on Hannibal’s digit, Will’s own pleased hum vibrating around it and into his hand before it jumps straight to Hannibal’s cock.

“Alright, baby, you can crack open that lube now, start working yourself open for me.”

Hannibal obeys, pulling his finger away as he rips into the small packet of lubricant and squeezes the meager amount over his fingers. He’s barely brought his slicked digits back to his hole before Will is _tsk_ ing at him, mouth set in a hard line as he stares at the road ahead of him.

“Don’t forget to describe what you’re doing, Hannibal. I won’t be able to watch you.”

Hannibal’s cock twitches at the command, his lust intensifying with every one of Will’s strict orders. “I’m stroking my rim gently. With two fingers. The way is so slick now, and already my body is aching for them to sink in, to fill the hollowness within me that exists every minute we aren’t joined together.”

“Slip ‘em in. Both of them. _Now.”_

Hannibal grunts at the abrupt pressure and breathes out a soft hiss as his body is forced to yield to him.

“Start pumping them,” Will instructs. “A slow rhythm. Steady.” After a minute of Hannibal’s compliance, Will’s low voice rasps, “How does it feel?”

“The stretch burns slightly,” Hannibal responds honestly as he rocks his fingers into his hole. “I didn’t have much time to adjust. But simultaneously the feeling of being split open, being _filled,_ makes my stomach twist pleasantly. My limbs feel heavy and my head light, my body aches to feel yours against it, within it. Nothing compares to you, Will. No experience could outshine the peace I feel when we’re together.”

Will gives a soft hum, and though when he speaks his voice is indifferent, his fingers clench around the steering wheel, knuckles paling at the pressure. “Still too eloquent, I think. Add another. Do it now.”

Between one pump and the next, one breath and the next, Hannibal slips a third finger into his hole, and this time he can’t stop the indulgent moan that quakes through him as he stretches around three of his fingers, his steady pace broken when the car rumbles over a few more bumps and jostles Hannibal’s hand even further into him.

“Stretch them out. Scissor yourself open. Then slip in further. Crook your fingers. You know what to look for.”

Hannibal does, and he gasps as soon as his fingers brush over his prostate, fights against the urge to send that white hot spark of pleasure through his body again and again, since Will never told him to touch there in earnest.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Hannibal. I wonder what all those people out there, so terrified of the big bad Ripper, would think if they could see you like this. Desperate fucking whore that you are.” Will pauses, his cruelty warring with his own desire to see Hannibal brought even lower, Hannibal is certain. “If you want so badly to be full then put that plug inside yourself, I wanna hear you _sobbing_ by the end of this, want you riding that plug like the needy thing we both know you are.” 

Hannibal groans, loves it when Will allows himself to be like this, cruelty and kindness blurring together until they’re unrecognizable from one another. “Yes, Will.” Hannibal stops fucking himself abruptly, and he feels hollowed out and painfully empty when his wet fingers slip free of his clenching body. The ache is soothed quickly enough when he picks up the plug and lifts his hips enough to fit it beneath him, angling it at his hole and slowly rocking down onto it. 

Between one downward thrust and another it slips all the way inside with a slick sound, settling heavily within him. The metal is still cool to the touch but it heats up quickly inside his body, and he starts up a slow, desperate rhythm as he rides it. 

He tries to bring one of his hands to his cock where it’s hard and leaking, but Will takes his eyes from the road long enough to give Hannibal a sharp look. “I don’t think so, darlin’. You’ll either come from having my plug inside you or you won’t come at all until we get to Miami and I can fuck you properly.” 

Hannibal doesn’t whine but it’s a near thing, the sound getting tangled in his throat. “Will, please,” Hannibal tries, but Will shushes him again. 

“We both know you don’t need to touch your cock to come, Hannibal. Fuck yourself on that plug just like you would if you were riding me.”

Hannibal obeys, he always does these days. His submission in these moments is the sweetest sort of release, being able to experience Will’s evolution, his becoming into his true self in all aspects of his life and nature. 

He rides the metal intrusion, desperately wishing it was his beloved filling him up. The plug isn’t as large as Will, isn’t nearly large enough to even be a fulfilling fit, but it’s all Will has allowed Hannibal so he accepts it greedily, grinding himself down against it in an attempt to hit his prostate. 

The plug is slightly too short to get as deeply as he needs, however, and he finds himself aching and slamming himself down on the device, his attempts ultimately unsuccessful. 

“Will, I’m - I’m very earnestly invested in this, but I’m not certain this toy is sufficient,” Hannibal informs him breathlessly as he fucks the plug into himself. Perhaps a faster pace…

“That plug is my cock, just like your hands are my hands. If you can’t come from that then you’re just gonna have to wait for the real thing, aren’t you? Touch yourself while you ride me. _Not_ your cock. Your chest, stomach. You remember intimately every path my hands have trailed on your body, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then let me touch you, baby. Get that shirt open so I can slip my fingers through that pelt on your chest. You know how I like to tug it.”

Hannibal complies as quickly as he can with one hand while he fucks the plug into him with his other. The car hits another bump and almost, _almost,_ jolts the tip of the toy to where it needs to be. Hannibal whines at the near tease, delights in the cruelty of his lover, knowing that Will had obtained this exact size and shape to tease Hannibal in just this way.

He shuts his eyes when his chest is exposed, trailing his free hand through the coarse, greying hair that covers his pecs, slipping seamlessly into his Mind Palace to recall the exact feeling of Will’s hands upon him. He lets his fingertips snag in the curls of hair, clenches his fist and gives a slight yank and moans when the sharp sting feels exactly as it does every time it’s Will’s hands upon him.

“Higher, now,” Will instructs, his voice low and commanding, growing huskier as the burgeoning scent of his arousal begins to fill the car. “You’ve got such a pretty neck. I love getting my hands around it. Love feeling it work beneath my touch as you pant for breath, when you swallow my load.”

Hannibal obeys immediately, disentangling his fingers from the hair on his chest to slide up to the base of his neck, fingers wrapping snuggly around the column of his throat. He swallows at Will’s words, desperately attempting to wet his dry mouth, and imagines he can taste the salty musk of Will’s seed on the back of his tongue as his Adam’s apple bobs and strains against his palm. His hips have begun to find a rhythm with his hand as he rides the plug - the wholly unsatisfying proxy for Will’s cock - though it’s still not enough to bring him any closer to orgasm.

He sits maddeningly close to the precipice of release, not even aware of the breathy whines and muttered pleas falling from his throat until Will commands his hand to tighten around it and Hannibal does, his grip fierce, unrelenting, and every bit the cruelty Will himself would bestow upon him if it were his own hand in play.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re able to seal the deal, darlin’,” Will points out, his tone more mocking than sympathetic. “Shame. It’s quite a ways until Miami. But when we get there...Fuck, Hannibal. I think I’m gonna pull you out of this car right in the parking lot of the marina, bend you over the hood and fuck you right there.” 

Will gives a soft hum as he seems to consider his recently spoken claim. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. Think _you_ would too. We’ll keep that plug in until we get there so you’re nice and open for me. Then I’ll slide it out of you and slip right inside. Use your nice loose hole to fuck at my leisure until I’ve got you whining and begging for me again.”

Hannibal swallows against the grip on his throat once more, arching into the touch as he brings to life the scene Will paints behind his eyelids. At the rate they’re going it will be mid-morning before they reach Miami, the air already hot and sticky. There will be plenty of people coming and going from the marina around that time. Anyone could see them, see the way he’ll allow Will to use him however he sees fit -

Hannibal moans at the thought, the sound strained as it’s choked from his throat. His hips are still working desperately down onto the plug, and though he’s grown closer still to release with the help of his remarkable imagination, he knows he’s still falling short of the edge. Knows that nothing short of Will’s cock filling him up, stretching him open, slamming against his prostate is going to do it for him.

“Would you let them watch?” He gasps out, as though anticipating Will treading the same line of thinking as himself; honestly, he fully expects that he is. There’s a reason he and Will are perfectly matched, after all. “Or would you kill them for daring to set their eyes upon me, as I would if it were you?”

“Oh, I’d let them watch,” Will replies immediately, obviously having already come to this conclusion himself in his own mind. His voice has grown huskier yet, low and promising, straining slightly with desire. With _need._ “I’d have you screaming, after all. Pretty difficult not to draw attention. First they’d be concerned, come to see if something is wrong, if someone needed help. They’d be shocked when they realized what was _actually_ happening. Maybe amused. And then they’d be appalled, knowing they shouldn’t view such an act, perhaps even contemplating calling the cops for public indecency.”

“But more than all that,” Will murmurs, his own tone growing breathless. Hannibal peels his eyes open to gaze at his love, admires the flush he can see blossoming on Will’s cheeks and down his throat in the flashes of light that dart over him rhythmically. His hands grip the steering wheel as tightly as his jaw is clenched, his arousal thickening to fill the cabin of the car. Hannibal breathes it in greedily.

“More than all that, they’d be enamored. They’d know they were witnessing something never meant for them, and above everything else they’d feel blessed to see it. ‘Cuz you and me, baby? We’re beyond. That romanticized version of love that everyone dreams of but no one _really_ gets to have. It can’t exist among people like them. No one could ever know another the way you and I know each other. The way we’re _a part_ of each other.”

“Blurring,” Hannibal murmurs breathily. “Indistinct yet whole.”

“Never been more complete,” Will agrees softly.

Silence converges upon them, heavy and thick and swelling larger than the frame around them can seemingly contain. Hannibal’s eyes flit over his lover once more, lingering on his tightly drawn body, clenched jaw and heaving chest. He gives another pitiful whine as the car jostles the plug within him to _nearly_ where it needs to be to cover the smirk his lips wish to curl into.

“You know I’d allow it. Relish in it. Letting everyone see how completely you own me, how willingly I fall to your command. I’d do _anything_ for you, Will. If you think to play the _humiliation_ card, think allowing a handful of strangers to watch you fuck me will in some way _debase_ me, I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken. I’d never be more proud than to have you mount me, place your claim upon me. Show the world indelibly how thoroughly we’re intertwined.”

Hannibal’s hand falls from his throat to his chest as he speaks, stroking through the hair there and giving sharp tugs now and then to keep his pleasure alight in the face of pain. Will’s breathing has quickened considerably, and Hannibal is certain that if he could just get his hand upon his beloved’s body he’d be able to feel the way his pulse thrums away beneath the thin, delicate stretch of his skin.

“To be entirely truthful, I think I might be forced to release the moment you push inside me. You’ve always filled me so well, darling. Will fill me far better than the toy you bought to tease me. I long to feel you split me open, squeeze around you and come as you slam into me ruthlessly, pressing into whatever touch you’ll permit me.”

A soft growl rumbles from Will’s throat and he hisses the words _fuck it_ as he hastily slaps on his turn signal and jerks the car over to the side of the road, braking so quickly that the plug Hannibal has been unsuccessfully fucking himself with _actually_ brushes against his prostate for one breathless second.

“Get out of the fucking car, Hannibal.” Will grits through teeth clenched tightly together, his jaw flexing beneath his skin. Hannibal can smell the arousal rolling off him and he shivers with it, with the intensity of Will’s gaze where it burns into Hannibal’s own. 

He complies, leaving the plug tucked inside himself as he moves as gracefully as he can from the car with his pants around his ankles, brazen and bold while he leans against the side. He isn’t allowed much time to adjust to the muggy, nearly claustrophobic heat after the well air-conditioned interior of the car before Will is upon him, crushing him into the door frame hard enough Hannibal’s hips ache with the pressure. 

“Gonna fuck you right here on the side of the road, out in the open for anyone to come by and see.” Something in Hannibal’s stomach clenches at the notion, though they’ve been driving for some time and Hannibal hasn’t seen another car for miles. It’s not late enough to be _early_ yet, and they’re avoiding major highways on their journey. Even so, if someone _were_ to happen upon them in the inky blackness of a Louisiana night, Hannibal knows it would be impossible to mistake what was happening. 

Will captures Hannibal’s lips in a bruising, biting kiss, pouring all of his aggression and arousal into the action until Hannibal tastes copper in his mouth and knows Will has broken skin. Will groans as Hannibal’s blood paints both their lips, and then Hannibal is being shifted, moved down the side of the car until his hips meet the side of the hood and then Will is slamming him against it, chest pressed against the engine-warmed metal. He hisses in pain, but Will’s hands on him send arousal shooting through his body and his cock throbs where it’s crushed beneath him. 

“Will -” Hannibal begins, but Will wraps a hand around his mouth, fingers digging cruelly into Hannibal’s cheeks. 

“Just let me take what I want, darlin’. What we both _need._ You wanted my cock so bad, well now you can have it.” Will purrs, drapes his body over Hannibal’s back and presses him even harder into the car. Hannibal can feel as Will reaches for his zipper, knows the precise moment he pulls his cock free and slots it between Hannibal’s thighs. 

Will wraps his fingers around the base of the plug and _yanks,_ pulling it free of Hannibal’s clenching body. Hannibal doesn’t have time to feel the aching hollowness, Will immediately sliding his cock in where the plug had just been, filling Hannibal up perfectly, in all the ways the plug was lacking. 

The pace is brutal right away, Will fucking into Hannibal roughly enough to push the air from his lungs and make him nearly dizzy with his _want._ He loves all facets of Will, admires him wholly and completely, but he adores nothing as much as he enjoys getting fucked by him with abandon. Will is a perfect lover; when it’s Hannibal’s turn to slip into Will’s body Will is accommodating and coy, nearly demure with how he tempts Hannibal inside until they’re both falling all over again. But when Will fucks Hannibal it’s rarely gentle and never coy, Will always sharper than a serpent’s fangs in his nearly desperate need to _claim_ Hannibal, to mark him up and lay ownership. 

And Hannibal is always more than willing to allow Will his needs, his darkest desires. Will Graham isn’t two people inhabiting the same body as others have speculated, he isn’t divided or incomplete. He’s a perfect representation of an amalgam of every person he’s ever met, every killer he’s ever settled into the head of, every chameleon instinct to adapt and _become._ He’s a beautiful dichotomy of man, and Hannibal worships at the altar of his awakening. 

“You look so pretty in the moonlight, Hannibal. Just like that night up on that cliff, bathed in blood and the light of the moon and I just _knew._ I knew you were _mine.”_ Will grunts into Hannibal’s neck, his thrusts going erratic as he chases his own orgasm with little mind for Hannibal’s own comfort or release. 

That’s not to say Hannibal isn’t barrelling towards the precipice of release regardless, his body already more than primed by the arousal that had first sparked to life as he knelt on the filthy bathroom and allowed Will to selfishly chase his pleasure. The flame of his desire was only further fanned by Will’s teasing in the car. Hannibal hadn’t been exaggerating when he mused that he might come the moment he was stuffed full of Will’s cock - he doesn’t, but it’s a very near thing.

“I am yours,” Hannibal agrees on a breathless moan as Will fucks into him. “Just as you are mine. It’s how we belong. ConjoinedTogether.”

“Inseparable,” Will murmurs with a sloppy kiss to Hannibal’s neck, just below his ear. 

“Unstoppable.”

Will hisses a curse and slams into Hannibal a final time before he stills, his hips pressed flush to Hannibal’s ass. Will’s teeth find his neck as his cock twitches with his release, clamping down and groaning into the abused skin there. The grip on Hannibal’s hips turns even harsher as Will yanks them away from the body of the car, one hand wrapping around him to fist Hannibal’s aching cock and pumping hastily. 

It’s the last push Hannibal needs to send him soaring, and Will moans again as Hannibal clenches tightly around his cock as his own release spills to the ground. He’s fairly certain he marks up his pants while he’s at it, but he manages to save the car from the mess at least. There’s little chance they’ll be able to expunge _every_ trace of their DNA when they dump the car in Miami, but that doesn’t mean Hannibal needs to leave it painted right on the outside of the car, either.

Will’s teeth release the meat of his neck, replaced immediately by soothing kitten licks and tender kisses. This, perhaps, might be Hannibal’s favorite part of Will topping; his beloved’s brutality usually melts away nearly instantaneously with his release, his touch turning gentle and words turning sweet. In that moment, Hannibal is no longer a thing to _be claimed,_ but _is claimed,_ and well-loved and worshipped. Will has always treated his possessions with a meticulous care and regard, after all. 

Hannibal turns his head, disrupting the soft kisses being laid to his neck to find Will’s mouth with his own. The kiss is so different, now; their lips molding together and tongues reaching out to caress rather than battle. Will sighs against his mouth between one kiss and the next, petting at Hannibal’s hip when he finally, reluctantly, pulls out of him.

He can’t stop the mewl of discomfort at the loss, the unignorable _hollowness_ that engulfs him at his core once more. Will shushes him softly, produces the plug from wherever he’d kept it while they were fucking and gingerly slips it back into Hannibal’s abused and leaking hole. His heart clenches in his chest when he feels Will shuffle behind him, bending down to grasp Hannibal’s pants and tugging them up delicately until they rest loosely over Hannibal’s hips.

Then Will’s hands find his waist, urging him to turn in place, and he’s being pinned against the car once more, this time a firm but gentle pressure as Will molds their bodies together, nuzzles more kisses into his neck.

“You’re so amazing,” Will murmurs sweetly, and Hannibal can only reach out to pass his own loving caresses over Will’s shoulders, arms and back, through his sweat-damp curls. “I love you, Hannibal,” he murmurs before his lips slot against Hannibal’s own once again.

“No one could ever love another person the way I love you, Will,” Hannibal declares, voice firm but warm with adoration. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

“Good,” Will purrs, lips twisting into a lazy grin as he bestows one more kiss and then begins to pull away. “Let’s start with Miami, get out of this country and go start our life already, shall we?”

“Whatever you wish, Will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Our eternal thanks for reading our content, and we hope you enjoy!
> 
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> 
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> 'Til next time! 💚 💜 BellaRai


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